Lip Service
by northernexposure
Summary: An evening encounter. SPOILERS FOR 9.4.


**Lip Service**

**A/N:** Just a little happy ficlet to dilute the awfulness of the one I posted yesterday. For LadyJScarlett and Cath1. Set the evening after the events of 9.4, so spoilers for that one if you haven't seen it.

* * *

At 9pm, Harry looked across the Grid to find it lit only by the glow of Ruth's desk lamp. He could see her, focused on her screen, typing steadily, and deliberated. Eventually, his desire to talk to her won out over his feeling that she'd probably sooner have him stay where he was. He pushed himself out of his chair, slid open his door, and walked slowly, steadily, across the floor.

He saw Ruth glance up as soon as he left his room, but her gaze didn't linger, returning instead to her screen. The quick tap-tap-tap of keys under her fingers filled the air.

"What are you working on?" He asked, coming to a stop beside her, turning to lean against her desk with his back to the computer. Not too close. Not so close that they were touching.

She stopped typing and looked at him with a brief smile, and he realised she'd not smiled at him much at all, recently. He missed it, he realised. He missed her face, though he saw it every day.

"Just trying to get my report of today down," Ruth told him. "Before I forget something."

Harry was amused at the idea that she would ever forget anything, but didn't show it. "You should be proud of what you did today, Ruth," he said, instead. "For a desk agent it seems you're an outstanding field officer."

Ruth bobbed her head. "Not sure I want to make a habit of it," she smiled again, another fleeting expression. "Although if I do end up doing something like that again, can we please make sure I have a less embarrassing codename?"

He raised an eyebrow. "You didn't like 'gazelle'?"

"It was a bit…" Ruth shrugged. "I don't know. Silly. For me, anyway. It'd suit Beth better."

"I thought it suited you perfectly. The way you got through that security door, for example. Quick, elegant…" he wanted to add 'beautiful', but thought that would be a step too far. "Anyway, if you want to complain about it, have a word with Dimitri. He picked it." It was a blatant lie. Harry had picked it himself, for all sorts of reasons that had nothing to do with propriety.

Ruth frowned. "Really?"

"Really."

"Was he laughing?"

It was Harry's turn to frown. "Was he laughing, when?"

"When he suggested it."

"Of course not. Why would he be?"

She shrugged. "It's just a word, I suppose."

Harry smiled, studying her face. He could almost see her mind working, processing this information. She looked good in blue, he thought, although the denim shirt she wore was an unexpected insight into her wardrobe. Not the sort of thing he imagined her wearing when she was curled up at home in front of the television, really. Though it did soften her. In fact, she looked positively inviting.

He looked back to her face to find her watching him. "Um," she said. "Sorry about the shirt. I know it's not correct dress code, but my jacket was a mess. Dimitri had this in his locker…"

Harry felt his eyebrows shoot up his head. "Dimitri?"

Ruth shifted in her chair. If the light around them was brighter, Harry suspected he'd see a pink tint in her cheeks. "Yes. He lent it to me. Because of my jacket."

"Kind of him."

"Yes."

Harry pursed his lips. "Well, then."

"I think he and Beth were worried about me. They're still new to all this."

"Ruth, _I_ was worried about you, and I am very, _very_ old to all this." He thought of the jolt his heart had given out at the sound of her little scream when they caught her. Of the period of silence following the flash bang explosion in the car park.

"Well, no harm done," she said, lightly, avoiding his eyes.

He looked at the cut on her lip, and realised it was bleeding again. "A little harm done," he said, pointing to her mouth.

Ruth raised her hand, touching the cut with a quiet curse before searching in vain for a tissue. Harry inched along the desk, reaching out to place one hand against her left cheek, holding her still. His fingers rested against the pulse point in her neck, and he could feel Ruth's heart racing. Her chest rose and fell a little quicker, he fancied, at his touch.

Wordlessly, he pulled his handkerchief out of his pocket with his right hand and dabbed it against the cut. Her lips parted, slightly, and his thumb brushed against the soft fullness of her bottom one. Ruth's right hand was resting warmly on his thigh. He felt something powerful twist in his belly, and forced himself to concentrate on the cut. Her pulse thundered under his touch.

"There," he said, softly, when the bleeding had stopped again.

Ruth didn't move away, and Harry didn't drop his hand. After a second he met her gaze, scared of what dismissal he might see there. But what was there wasn't what he'd expected. He leaned forward, toward her upturned, beautiful face.

The kiss was sweet and gentle, and Harry shut his eyes, losing himself in the feel of her lips against his. He parted his own, nudging hers a little wider. Ruth flinched, pulling back, lifting her hand up to her mouth.

"Ow."

Harry dropped his hand. "Oh god, sorry."

She shook her head. "No, I'm – I wasn't – It's just a little sore."

Harry nodded. "Stupid of me. I wasn't thinking."

Ruth fixed her gaze on her hands, which were now folded together in her lap. "Neither… neither was I." She took a breath, and looked up at him, with the quiet bravery that he so admired. "Sorry."

He smiled, standing up. "Don't be. Now, go home. You need rest, yes?"

She nodded as he moved away, heading back to his office. Halfway there, he couldn't resist turning back.

"Oh, and Ruth?"

She looked up. "Yes?"

"I have a small selection of spare shirts in my office," he shrugged. "Just… FYI. For the future."

[END]


End file.
